


Five Senses

by Airasyraye



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angel Castiel, Bottom Dean Winchester, Coming Untouched, First Time Bottoming, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Top Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-01
Updated: 2015-09-01
Packaged: 2018-04-18 13:43:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4708061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Airasyraye/pseuds/Airasyraye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel enjoys the attentions of his lover.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Senses

Sight--

He regarded wavy, chocolate brown hair, a lock falling over a high, intelligent forhead. Stubble dotting a strong jaw, before giving way to high cheekbones and surrounding a full, sensuous mouth that was always slightly chapped. Oversetting those kissable lips was a straight patrician nose between blue eyes. 

Those eyes, the most arresting feature of the vessel, stared up at him, so blue, bluer than the ocean, the sky. Large, guileless, human, and yet beneath there lurked an ancient force. He could see it, or imagined he could, gleaming beneath the blue, down deep in the inky black of the pupils. The windows to the soul. 

As he stared, those pupils expanded further, over taking the blue, and that ancient force was there now more prominent, looking back at him with slowly growing need. Those lips parted for a pink, pink tongue to dart out, swiping over the full bottom. An invitation he couldn’t resist.

When finally he pulled back, they were glossier, rosy and swollen with kisses, color matching the flush on the cheeks. Blue eyes were now navy, rings of color barely visible surrounding pupils that swallowed all light in the room, dragging him down into the depths of the real being beneath him. A gaze like that was like icy fire, gleaming from a distance of millennia, a life so long he couldn’t comprehend it.

Finally his fingers made it to buttons on a white dress shirt, snowy and unspoiled, cotton material tugged from dark dress pants, a blue and white striped tie impatiently shoved out of the way. The buttons were small and simple, easily slipped through loops and freed, the shirt pushed open, revealing skin.

Smooth, lightly tanned, unblemished, which was completely unnatural, but that was a bonus of being an angel. 

He ran a hand slowly down that skin, reveling in the way the faintest arch curved a spine. Dusky nipples pebbled and lips parted on a quiet moan when a thumb bumped one. Those blue eyes fluttered closed, lashes like smudges of soot. He leaned down and brushed his lips over a cheek, a kiss more tender than the touch of a feather, like the feather of a wing he would never see in person.

Fingers tugged at a belt, opening a silver buckle that flashed in the fluorescent lights brightening dull-gray walls. A button was popped, a zipper lowered. Equally snowy white boxers, plain and practical, were tenting instantly out of the newly created gap. The hard line of an erection, evidence of mounting desire, showed through the material, the barest hint of dark pubic hair peeking over the waistband. 

A touch there and tendons stood out like cables in a taut neck, dark head rolling back against mint green sheets. Teeth caught on a bottom lip and he couldn’t resist this second invitation. Soon a dark bruise blossomed over the corded tendons, worried there by another set of teeth and chapped lips. 

Hands pulled away and blue eyes opened again, so dark with want. A new set of hands in play, fingers nimble and artistic, yet used to grip a blade with frightening skill and deadly accuracy. Something he could appreciate more.

A green flannel shirt was roughly yanked open, shoved off of broad shoulders. The angel sat up, going for less of a passive role. The flannel was pushed off and with a simple roll of muscles and a flick of wrists, the shirt landed on the floor with a crumpled tan trench coat. A gray t-shirt was shoved up, revealing a belly with a scar white against bronze, imperfection adding more humanity to a real life Adonis. A wound healed by time rather than angelic grace, a thin thread of vulnerability. Pink nipples hove into sight as their owner took over, yanking the shirt up. That distraction was all an angel needed to suck a nipple into his mouth. Muscles flexed and fingers fumbled on gray cotton. The shirt was yanked off and thrown to the foot of the bed so fingers could dig into dark hair, clutching. 

The nipple was released and glistened in the light with saliva. Blue eyes looked up, dancing with glee, as lips curved in a smile that shouldn’t be so wicked when made by an angel. 

Hands dug into dark hair and pulled, forcing his head back so he could lean in, kissing those lips, licking at them, nibbling, until they were wet and red. Fingers carded until chocolate locks were as messy and sticking up as they were when their current owner first strutted on Earth. Then those hands wandered down, pushing white down tan shoulders, muscled arms, off and onto the floor. They flattened against a defined chest and pushed, pressing an angel down on shiny sheets, kisses still reddening a double pair of needy lips. Then teeth scraped down, catching on the edge of a sharp jaw, leaving light crescents. A dark head lolled back again, exposing an already bite-marked neck for more attention. 

Black dress pants were shoved and pushed, lips reluctantly pulled from a sharp collarbone to hasten their descent down muscled legs. Off they went and all that was left was a striped tie and straining white boxers. Jeans were taken down by their own wearer, patience wearing thin, but navy boxers grudgingly left on slim hips. Not yet. Time taken, a slow burn cherished. 

Another set of hips were clutched tightly, no warning given before a face was buried between strong thighs, causing another graceful arch of spine. Fingers dug into a scalp, pulling, as white material was sucked and dampened over the straining length of a bulge. The gentlest caress of teeth brought a shudder rippling along, muscles bunching in a flat belly. Smooth chest heaved for breath, skin beginning to shine with sweat. A glance up showed the clench of a stubbled jaw. 

 

Sound--

"Dean…” 

Rough voice, smooth like a stream rushing over gravel, deep and throaty. A voice made for sinful whimpers, irony not lost on he who heard it. 

“Yeah?”

“Please…”

“Mmm?” 

A hum against sensitive flesh, drawing forth a fresh gasp. A dig with a tongue made a moan rumble like thunder. Breath pluming against damp material and heavy breathing from another throat seemed to echo in the otherwise silent space. 

“Please, Dean…”

Fingers hooked into the waistband of boxers and tugged, hips rising to allow the removal, material shushing along skin. A tiny whump as they joined a bevy of discarded clothes on the floor. Hands glided along the planes of the body below, new soft glide of skin on skin, picked up by ears eager to catch every minute sound within these walls. Teeth on the sensitive inseam of a thigh evoked a growl that made hairs stand up on the back of his neck, a shudder of need in his own body making his heart pound in his ears, momentarily overcoming the scrape of nails on skin. 

“Your actions are becoming frustrating.”

A dark chuckle rumbling against the sheets beneath his chest. “Patience is a virtue.”

A mutter that was not exactly kind brought another chuckle. Words were then lost in a groan as a tongue smoothed up the other inseam, licking into the crease between where he’d been and where they both wanted him to go. 

“Now!”

“So needy. Use your words, Cas.”

“I am! If you don’t--”

“What? Do this?”

Another groan like a thunderhead at a distance was pulled from a straining throat as a tongue flicked at a sensitive spot. Breath shushed between teeth as the angel sucked in air. 

“What will you do?” his tormentor wondered aloud. 

An annoyed grunt. Sheets sighed as a leg was shifted with irritation, hands digging into shoulders. A pull and a cocky grin was claimed by a pout, soft smacks and slick noises, two peals of aroused rumbles competing now as hands pulled and stroked. A snap of a waistband that was still snug around hips brought forth a shocked gasp and an replying chuckle. A growl and a gasp as punishing teeth caught on flesh. 

“Come on, Cas. What do you want? Do you want me back down there, now that you’re exposed, my tongue on you? Do you want to feel a warm…wet…slick…tongue on you?”

Words murmured into the shell of an ear. An inhale of breath. 

“Yes…”

“Yes…?” 

“I want your mouth.”

Another husky chuckle and lips slipped down shivering skin, drawing forth more breathy noises. Close enough. Dirty talk from an angel was a thing that was going to need a lot of practice. 

A swipe of a tongue tracing a hard column and a groan that echoed like cannon fire through supercharged nerves. Lips mouthing a tip teased forth another needy whimper. 

“More.”

Who could resist such a request from such a being in such a voice? Lips parted, but another torment awaited as they pursed to blow across damp skin. A cry skipped a few octaves, answered by a smug snigger. 

“Don’t do that again.”

Kitten laps smothered further protests. A voice fell into broken noises, so loud in the stillness of the room, accented by the rustle of sheets in a chorus of mounting excitement, nails scraping through hair, slick wet sounds from between parted thighs.

“Tell me how it feels.”

“Good…”

“Mmm?”

“Fantastic…”

Another wet suckle and a broken sob. 

“More! More, Dean, please…”

“Since you ask so nicely.”

 

Taste--

A swirl of tongue over a glistening tip and his mouth is flooded with the musky flavor of desire. A groan of his own accompanied the taste, a swallow before he took more, lips stretching to take in warm, turgid flesh. More of that salty musk gushed over his tongue and he gripped sharp hipbones to control the pace. Rolling his tongue over the sensitive tip to catch another pearly drop, he pulled off to nip at a quivering abdomen, tongue lapping a different sort of salt from flushed, shining skin. 

He ran his way up, licking up the salt of rising heat, clean skin beneath, sucking dark marks into flesh. Fingers in his hair held on but didn’t control and he satisfied himself with the taste of the earthly container of an angel. Wet muscle over a previously neglected nipple brought another quiet noise that beckoned him up to capture lips, licking out the unique flavors of rain and wind and stars he fancied he could taste on the tongue battling with his. The slight bitterness of whiskey mixed with those flavors as the angel had deigned to down a celebratory shot, one of the few tastes that he could stomach. 

To never enjoy the variety of food. Savory, sweet, sour, bitter, salty, was that a good trade for wings that could take their owner to the heavens and back in a blink? What molecules did Cas taste in his mouth? From the eagerness of sucking kisses, they were molecules he could take pleasure in.

A final swipe of his tongue and he chased more salt down a squirming body. Cas was practically vibrating with repressed need now, the taste heady on his tongue. He wanted more, a purer source.

Hard flesh was engulfed without further preamble, clear precome beading from the tip. He eagerly lapped it up, rolling the taste, swallowing and sucking for more. Hands clutched at hips he couldn’t hope to contain if the angel couldn’t contain himself, the thrill only heightening everything. A bob of his head and he sucked, rolling his tongue in random patterns, one hand reluctantly leaving a hip to grip the thick base, stroking and adding the flavor of his own sweat when his lips glided where his hand had just left. No more teasing, it was straight to business now, the desire to taste the essence of the angel’s pleasure like a drug urging him on. 

The flesh beneath his hand was growing impossibly firmer, swelling with impending release. The taste amplified, smoky and salty and so damn good. Pure like water, clean like snow, only Cas. 

A brief interlude to suck in much needed breaths, tongue lapping at hard flesh, salt and musk and he couldn’t get enough.

Another swallow down and he knew he had him on the brink. Thighs were quivering on either side of his head, fingers digging in painfully into his own flesh. He rolled his tongue in *that* way and it was over. His mouth was flooded with the pure, undiluted flavor of his angel’s ecstasy that was accompanied by a cry of satisfaction. He rolled the tang in his mouth, savoring as he swallowed. Tongue ran across lips, chasing every drop and he swallowed again, sitting up to draw in breaths.

 

Scent--

The air was heavy with the musk of an angel in the final throes of passion. He imagined he smelled clouds and sunshine and the scent of centuries beneath the exhilarating scent of sex sifting through the room. A smug smile of pride flitted across his lips. He leaned down, pressing lips to panting lips, keeping kisses light as Cas struggled for breath. Breath that was touched by fine whiskey and warm humanity and a purer form of cloud-sunshine-time. On his own he could smell sweat and sex and cinnamon from dessert eaten before this dessert had been served.

Suddenly he was pressed face-first into sheets on which still clung the faint smell of detergent. He turned his head, looking back up. Flushed cheeks and impossibly dark blue eyes. Fingers caressed his cheeks and he could smell traces of his own cologne. He flicked his tongue teasingly against the digits and watched the eyes get darker. He was rolled and the angel pounced, pressing him into the sheets, mouth on his, sucking the breath from him. He could smell the citrus shampoo the angel’s carding fingers teased out of his own hair. He could smell his own need, raw and animal, completely unsatisfied. A grumble of a plea and Cas laughed breathlessly, increasing that scent of time and the sharpness of stars washing over his skin. Either he was crazy or his brain was just short-circuiting in the presence of this delicious other worldly being hovering over him. 

The room was full of scents. Gunpowder and gun oil, stale clothes that needed a washing, sour sweat clinging to cloth from the hunt they just successfully completed that competed with the cleaner sweat of want clinging to both their bodies, recycled air filtered through the bunker’s ventilation system. The room smelled like him, his place, his home. 

Mouth on his again, filling his nose with angel. Fingers clutched and pulled and suddenly he was face-first in the sheets again, smelling sweat and detergent and cologne all over again. Hands on him, their owner against his back, lips on his spine and he inhaled, smelling himself, smelling the angel, closing his eyes, and surrendering his dominance easily.

 

Touch--

Warm, callused fingers danced over him, bringing tingles. Chapped lips and humid breath chased goose bumps across his skin, a wet slick tongue tracing up his spine. He moaned, relaxing into well-washed sheets and a soft mattress, giving himself over to the angel’s care. 

His reward was nibbles his shoulder, sharp stings soothed by a tongue. Fingers walked over his ribs and he shivered, feeling so incredibly hard. Panting into the pillow beneath his head, he ran his hands over the wrinkled sheets, needing to hold onto something when there was nothing there.

Weight against his thighs as Cas settled himself, bending down to suck an earlobe into his mouth. His erection strained against his boxers, neglected and complaining about it, and he began to move a little, desperate for some friction. His soft mattress was not enough and he whimpered in distress, needing Cas to touch something more than his back, his arms, needing his lips elsewhere than marching down his neck. 

Squirming warranted nothing. The angel astride him was going to do this on his own time and he was helpless against it now. 

Teeth against his shoulder blade and he groaned, rubbing himself into his mattress and he couldn’t do anything else. His hands scrabbled at the sheets which were becoming damp in his palms. A warm tongue soothed the hurt and then traced down his spine again. A plea tugged from his throat when lips stopped at the dip of his back right above his rear. 

Mercifully, fingers hooked into the waistband of his boxers. The angel lifted up so he could lift his hips, groaning with relief when his erection sprang free, cool air against the hot flesh drawing a hiss on the heels of that groan. He was suddenly pushed firmly back into the bed, whimpering when his erection was trapped between the sheets and his belly. A flush burned his cheeks when hands wandered boldly over the cheeks of his rump, kneading like a cat and awakening his desire even further.

The tickle of dark bangs on the dip of his back didn’t prepare him for the startle of teeth on his butt cheek. Breath whooshed out of him as kisses were peppered over sensitive flesh, and his mind whirled with the knowledge that his angel was going to leave a hickey on his butt. He squirmed again, groaning as his trapped erection rubbed against the rough sheets. 

Breath hissed between his teeth in shock as fingers pressed his cheeks apart, spreading him open in a way he’d never felt before, cool air and warm breath tickling intimate flesh. A protest died in his throat as a warm, wet tongue licked a stripe up his crack. He jerked as if he’d been hit, a gasp of the angel’s name muffled by the pillow in his face as he writhed helplessly. It was so dirtywrong and felt so dirtyright.

Another long, luxurious lick had his back bowing. The tip of a tongue traced puckered flesh and tingles skittered across his nerves. His fingers clenched in the sheets and he buried his face into the pillow, hiding his burning cheeks and gaping mouth. 

Long passes of the tongue were interspersed randomly with sharp flicks and he was twisting the sheets in his fists before Cas was done. Finally the stimulation lifted and he groaned in disappointment before he could stop himself.

Another new sensation made him stutter, slick lubricant coating long fingers probing gently at him. His head shot up, eyes wide. They hadn’t discussed this. This was entirely without warning. 

Again a protest died before it was given life as a finger was eased into him, so gently and slowly that it was almost natural. He squeezed his eyes shut, burying back into the pillow, feeling the digit slowly sink in until it could go no further. Muscles squeezed without conscious thought, body protesting where his voice didn’t, but there was no pain, just an almost overwhelming sense of wrongness. 

Lips on his back again, soothing kisses, other hand skimming over his sides, his back, his hips, his thighs. He relaxed slowly beneath the petting, breath stale with his face in the pillow, but he couldn’t bring himself to come out of that hiding place just yet.

The finger was pulled back and he gasped at the weird pulling sensation, then gasped again as the finger returned at that same maddening pace. In and out, slick and firm, getting him used to sensations he didn’t know he could ever get used to. No pain, just… no.

A whimper made his throat vibrate as the questing finger brought a friend. He couldn’t help open his eyes wide as two fingers stretched him wider than he had ever been before. They didn’t pause, gave him no reprieve, as they slid in as far as they could possibly go, so deep. His body clenched of its own accord, objecting to the invasion, even as his nerves sang with confusing sensations. 

Mouth on sweat-damp skin, a murmured entreaty to relax whispered on a soft breath. Those fingers counter pointed the request, giving him no chance to even think of relaxing as they slipped in and out in a slow, careful rhythm. They spread a little, forcing him open wider, and he squeezed his eyes shut. Still no pain, the fingers so gentle, but there was some discomfort now, body utterly unused to this treatment. 

A tongue tickled his ribs and breath stirred the fine hairs on his nape of his neck as Cas stretched out over him, fingers still still prodding within. A third suddenly joined the party and his pillow swallowed a cry of confused feelings. Chapped lips in his hair, quiet words nearly lost. A question that made him shake his head rapidly back and forth. 

The fingers withdrew, then pushed in, and crooked. 

Lightning up his spine. A cry torn from his throat. Satisfied chuckle in his hair. Second hand pressing at the small of his back, forcing him down, holding him when he wanted to move as another touch to *that* spot sent a fresh bolt through his nerves. A plea went unanswered, unrelenting pressure pinning him to damp sheets. Another wave singing through his body. It was too much and not enough, he needed…needed so badly.

Suddenly the fingers were gone. A gasp of shock and he turned his head, lifting himself up enough to look back over his shoulder. Eyes caught by dark, dark blue. Millennial gaze full of lust and pride and love. He was drowning in those eyes, body quivering with pent up need. 

Hands with strength to crush rolled him with tenderness over onto his back, finally freeing the erection that had been neglected so completely. Fingers clutched his thighs, raising them, spreading him open even more, vulnerable, on display, at mercy. 

Praises made his chest clutch. He looked up, licking his own lips, not missing the way those eyes followed. He nodded, reaching, pulling the angel closer, smothering praises with kisses. 

A jolt ran through him as he felt warm bluntness there. He buried his face in a damp neck, breath pushed from his lungs as thickness pressed, pressed, pressed. So solid, so hot and firm, spreading him open, deeper than fingers, so deep. He clutched at damp skin, thighs pressed to sharp hips. His back curved as the tip brushed that spot. A groan rumbled from him, answered by the angel. 

A pause that felt like eons and he whimpered, pulling at shoulders, pushing his hips up, swallowing a startled gasp from kiss-bruised lips, licking desperately into the angel’s mouth. This plea was answered and a short withdraw was followed by a slow return. Again and again, gentle rocking, easing him into it, for which he was grateful, but soon no longer needed. He pushed again, forcing Cas in harder, tugging a plump lip with his teeth. 

Cas lifted his head, eyes warning him to brace himself, before his wrists were suddenly caught in a vice-like grips and held to the mattress. The air was punched from his lungs again as short, gentle strokes lengthened to deeper, faster thrusts. Pleasure sparked through his nerves and he cried out, legs hugging the hips spreading him open, trying to match the rhythm. Discomfort returned, mixing with ecstasy, making him press his head to the pillow and close his eyes. 

A question against his throat and he shook his head again rapidly, frantic to keep Cas going, never stop, the slick slide in and out maddening. Any twinge gave way to swirling rapture that climbed higher and higher. Grunts and pants and sighs washing over his skin as Cas matched his noises with his own, fingers clutching his wrists hard enough to bruise and only increasing his delight. He felt…pinned, trapped, dominated, and it was frightening and glorious and welcomed. He writhed on the bed, struggling to match the angel’s pace and failing miserably. The awkward, countering rhythms only made it that much sweeter as the erection deep inside hit that spot again and again. Pressure was building in his gut, his sac tightening and swelling and he realized he was being driven closer and closer to the edge without a single touch to his cock. 

A breathless appeal for relief of this sweet torture was as unanswered as any before it and he rocked his head from side to side against the pillow, crying out without shame, wondering if it even possible to reach the end without stimulation there. The pleasant pressure between his legs was usually focused there in the front, and this one was gathering deep inside him, sweet and strange and addicting. 

It wound ceaselessly, his legs shaking, muscles bunching, delicious aches unable to even compare with the sweetest ache within. His throat was already hoarse, eyes squeezed shut, unable to focus on anything but the sweep of Cas over that bundle of nerves. 

The thrusts inside began to break up, shorter, sharper, pounding that spot. Mouth open, voice silent now, beyond words, beyond noises, every muscle pulling taut, so close, so close, there!

A scream echoed through the room as the spring snapped and he came, pulsing, hot seed splattering onto his own chest and stomach. Muscles clenching mindlessly, pushing, pulling, squeezing. He felt as well as heard Cas cry out into his shoulder, felt liquid warmth spread up his backside, foreign and a little gross and a lot arousing. He moaned helplessly, shuddering under the angel above him, then collapsed, boneless, overheated, exhausted, body thrumming and singing. 

Cas on top of him, slumped on him, both panting, hot, slick, sticky skin, flushed cheeks and dark gazes, breaths echoing, drawing in humid, sex-tinged air, taste of each other still savored on tongues, bodies quivering with released tension and afterglow, edging toward sleep for one, while the other watched over, waiting for tomorrow and the morning after.

**Author's Note:**

> First Supernatural work. New Ao3 member. Please review?


End file.
